


A Slower Path

by night_reveals



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Heterosexual Sex, Quiet, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/night_reveals/pseuds/night_reveals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only questions that Eames asks are the ones she already knows the answers to.</p><p>(always-female!Eames)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slower Path

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladderax (allnuthatchforest)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allnuthatchforest/gifts).



> this is for the wonderful Adelaide, who requested "Anything with always-female!Eames; kind of fluffy and/or smutty' forever ago at my [for a limited time only, free words at an even lower standard of quality than usual!](http://night-reveals.livejournal.com/19467.html) fic writing fest.
> 
> Sorry it's so late babe. Stay fierce.

The wind rushes through the looming trees, disturbing the bluejays and cardinals from their nests in an explosion of blue and red. The woods are momentarily chaotic, feathers and screeches filling its normally still air. Arthur lounges against the door frame, watching Eames take in her surroundings.

She’s wearing one of his old shirts, a checkered red and black button-up that barely covers her. The cuffs are rolled up softly, exposing her small wrists. In her hand is the coffee that Arthur made just minutes ago, the fat from the thick cream that she likes floating on the surface.

It takes only a minute for the wildlife to settle down, the wind hushing over everything, as if soothing ruffled feathers and twisted leaves. Eames takes a measured sip of her coffee, and Arthur watches her light brown hair move with the action, the blonde tips of it dragging over the collar of the borrowed shirt. 

He watches her sipping the coffee that he made, her wearing his shirt like a sign, and thinks that she’s probably still wet inside from him, from last night when they’d arrived here.

“I can’t believe that you were raised here,” comes her voice. Arthur starts, surprised. But of course she knew he was there.

“Yes,” he says, walking out to join her at last. “First seventeen years.”

“Quaint,” she replies with a tiny smile, one that on anyone else would be playful. She finishes her coffee, looking back out into the woods, towards the dark road that twists through the acres of land like a meandering gravel river. 

Stepping forward, Arthur envelops her from behind. She places a hand on the arm around her waist, stroking once at Arthur’s bare skin. 

“So, what are we going to do all the way out here?” It’s a question that she must know the answer to. They’re the only type she asks. 

“Whatever you want.”

“Good,” she replies, putting her mug on a railing and pressing herself back against his body. She’s short compared to him, her shoulders fitting under his arm, the top of her head coming in right underneath his chin.

Arthur bends Eames over right there, on the deck he and his father built years ago when this place was a home and not a safehouse. Her hair is thick and smooth under his hands, short enough that it doesn’t get in the way but long enough to grab. Towards the middle she moans aloud, dirty and unrestrained, and an angry pair of bluejays burst from the trees, squawking at the free show they’re being given. 

“Stop scaring the — ” Arthur grinds into Eames, momentarily going breathless at her clench. “ — local wildlife.”

Eames’ only response is another, louder moan. 

“So fucking contrary,” says Arthur, gritting out the words. 

“If you don’t stop talking about birds — ” Eames gasps and Arthur allows himself a well-earned smug smirk “ — I’m going to think you’re partial to bestiality.”

“Eames,” groans Arthur, almost laughing as he comes inside of her, hot and deep. He rubs at her clit, sucking apologetic kisses into her neck for coming before her, staying inside while she has her turn, clenching on his softening cock. 

“Fuck.” Eames shudders, her shoulder hitting Arthur’s chest in a way that makes him realize just how much smaller she is, physically. He never notices it except when they’re this close, pressed together so that the differences between their bodies are highlighted, beautiful. 

Eames turns in his arms and he picks her up, putting her bare-bummed on the wood railing. His checkered shirt isn’t long enough to cover her arse when she’s sitting.

“I’d better not get any splinters in my arse.” Eames raises her eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“I sanded this myself, I’ll have you know,” replies Arthur, smiling. “And if you do, I’ll just pick them out for you.”

“Mmh. Will you?” With a foot, Eames hooks him in closer to her, till Arthur is at her front, till they are breathing the same air. 

The woods go still around them, the looming trees receding into the background, the bluejays and cardinals quieting at last. The sun has risen in the past thirty minutes, and it shines down onto the deck, its rays glinting off of Eames’ light brown eyelashes. Arthur brings up a hand and runs it through Eames’ slightly sweaty hair, a feeling he’s unused to rushing through his chest. Eames leans down. 

She whispers.


End file.
